


By Your Side (Through Thick and Thin)

by sepulchrecas



Series: Master Verse [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidents, Alternate Universe - Not Hunters, Angst and Fluff, Dom Dean, Hospitals, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Master/Pet, Omorashi, Sick Sam, Sub Sam, Watersports, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-20 00:44:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3630315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sepulchrecas/pseuds/sepulchrecas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hello, nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”<br/>“Uh, hey, I was out working, and when I came home I found my boyfriend passed out on the floor with a one hundred and six degree fever, I don’t know how long he’s been out. He’s wet himself, and he’s not waking up.”<br/>“Where is your residence? I’ll send EMTs to come take a look at him.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	By Your Side (Through Thick and Thin)

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt I received on my tumblr. If watersports/urolagnia isn't your thing, then this work probably isn't either. Thank you so much for reading, enjoy :)

Sam wakes suddenly to a banging sound downstairs and loud cursing.

“Sam, get your ass down here!” Dean calls angrily, and his brow furrows. He doesn’t remember doing anything wrong, but that doesn’t mean a thing.

He races down the stairs, and Dean looks down at the puddle in front of him. Sam cowers and ducks his head.

Now _that_ he remembers. Dean’s taken to locking the bathroom door these days, and only putting Sam in a diaper when he works, but for right now he’s on vacation.

During day hours Sam’s free to roam the house, but only allowed to go to relieve himself outside in a spot Dean’s designated, not inside until Dean gets home.

But today it started raining, and he had no choice but to have an accident. He was fit to bursting, and he remembers why he ran up the stairs to take a nap, so he’d forget about it.

“What the hell is this?”

“I had an accident.”

“You had access to go outside, why didn’t you?”

“It’s raining, and --”

“You have an umbrella,” Dean snaps, and he stomps off to the kitchen, coming back with a roll of paper towels he uses to clean up Sam’s piss.

“I’m sorry, Master.”

“Go to bed, Sam, I don’t want to talk to you right now, I thought we got past this point, I thought you were toilet trained.”

Guilt makes tears spring to Sam’s eyes, but he fights them back as he walks back up the stairs, slower this time.

Dean doesn’t even come upstairs to go to bed, and he either left or took the couch, and Sam doesn’t know which is worse.

He spends the whole night whining and crying to himself. He doesn’t know why he didn’t just walk out to piss and walk back in the house, he could have toweled off and gone to bed with a better mindset, but now he can’t seem to pick himself back up or convince himself why he did it.

Eventually he falls asleep, but it’s after Dean leaves for work. He didn’t even take Sam out to use the bathroom before leaving, Sam just heard the roar of the impala and that was it.

That was Dean’s goodbye.

Sam falls to sleep then yet again.

When he wakes he feels like crap. His nose is running, and his chest rattles when he breathes, but he can’t cough, he’s too tired to even move.

Sam’s bladder screams at him, and when he tries to get up out of bed, even to sit, his vision goes totally black for a good two minutes. He manages to make it down the stairs in one piece and onto the couch, but his head spins, and he’s surprised he hasn’t passed out already. He flops onto the couch with an unhappy moan, snot dripping from his nostrils.

The only phones in the house are upstairs, and there’s no way he can make it there without a concussion.

And he doesn’t want to wet himself again, not on the couch, so he rolls off of it and to the ground, pulling a pillow with him, and he falls back to sleep.

* * *

Dean drives home with his teeth grinding together. He’s beyond angry at Sam, and the urge to drive to a motel for a night or two is strong, but he knows Sam will drop if they don’t fix this now.

Pissing in the house is fine if it’s in a toilet, but on the floor? Dean’s not cleaning anything up ever again if Sam’s behavior and defiant streak doesn’t out itself immediately.

While Dean likes pushing Sam to his limits until he does have an accident, he doesn’t like it when Sam has access to somewhere to go, but chooses to instead _go in Dean’s work closet of all places_.

His shoes this morning smell gross, and he’s going to have a buy a bottle of febreeze even though he’s allergic to it.

“Third pair this month,” he mutters to himself.

When he gets home none of the lights are on, and that makes his mood break. He doesn’t bother grabbing his things, instead, he hurries to get inside.

“Sam? Sammy, are you -- oh my god, Sam, Sam, wake up!” Dean says, and tries to get Sam to roll over, but he doesn’t even budge. He puts a hand to Sam’s forehead, which is burning.

Sam never gets high fevers, and he always wakes up, he’s always been a light sleeper.

He steps out of the puddle on the ground that’s growing even now, and he runs up the stairs to get to the bathroom where the thermometer is.

“Shit, shit, shit!” He yells, and he digs through every drawer in the bathroom and kitchen until he finds it, and then he jams it under Sam’s tongue. “One-oh-six. Oh my god, I don’t know what to do. Sammy, Sammy, please wake up, come on.”

Sam’s eyelids flutter, but they don’t open. He runs back up the stairs to get their home phone, and he dials nine-one-one.

“Hello, nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”

“Uh, hey, I was out working, and when I came home I found my boyfriend passed out on the floor with a one hundred and six degree fever, I don’t know how long he’s been out. He’s wet himself, and he’s not waking up.”

“Where is your residence? I’ll send EMTs to come take a look at him.”

Dean rattles of their address, and he hears clicking of a keyboard as she types.

“Someone will be there right away. Do you need me to stay on the line?”

“He’s waking up, hang on.”

“De? Where --”

“Are you okay? Sammy, what’s going on?” Dean asks worriedly, and Sam rolls over, his head hitting the floor, and he inhales sharply.

“Don’t feel good.”

“No kidding. Someone’s on the way to come help, okay? How long have you been passed out?”

“Fell asleep after you left,” he says, and his head lolls dangerously.

“Fuck,” he moves the phone closer to his mouth. “He says he’s been out for more than seven hours.”

“The ambulance is on its way, sir, don’t worry.”

“Fuckin’ don’t worry my ass. Sammy, are you okay? What do you need?”

A sweat breaks out all over Sam’s body, and it’s like he’s immediately drenched in it. Dean unfastens his collar and pulls him up into a sitting position, leaning him against the couch.

“I’m going to go get you an ice pack, some water, and stuff to clean up, okay? Don’t move. If you need anything just yell for me. Oh god, Sammy, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to leave you alone today.”

Dean pets down his sweating face and plants a kiss to his forehead.

“Guh, Dean,” Sam groans, and he falls slack against the coach.

Dean doesn’t waste time in getting what he said he would, and he quickly cleans up the mess Sam made. He makes Sam guzzle the water, and he packs ice packs in his hotspots in hopes of bringing the fever down, but it doesn’t break in the slightest. “Today of all days, Sammy, fuck.”

He sees the lights outside the window, and he whips open the front door to help the EMTs inside.

“Where is he?”

“Living room, this way.”

Dean leads them into the room, and they are instantly on Sam, running tools all over him and asking him questions in quiet tones.

Sam slurs his answers and he slumps into their arms when they hoist him into a chair with straps to keep him in.

“We’re taking him to the hospital to see about the fever. You’re welcome to ride in the back with us,” one of the women says, and Dean follows on their heels, holding Sam’s hand the entire time.

“It’s okay, Sammy, it’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

The ambulance pulls up to the emergency room, and Sam is rushed inside, Dean alongside him as he’s put in a room.

Doctors and nurses come and go periodically, and they try to talk to him, but he’s so worried his only focus is Sam.

They’ve put him in a gown Dean plays with between his fingers to get his mind off of the worry that has him on the verge of a full blown panic attack.

An IV drips antibiotics through his system, and every ten or so minutes a nurse comes in to check his temperature.

It steadily drops to about one-oh-two, but after that it stays that way.

Ice packs are put all over his body, and he shivers before waking.

“What’s goin’ on?” He grunts, and Dean holds him down in the bed.

“You’re in the hospital with a fever, but that’s as much as I know.”

A doctor comes in then.

“Oh good, you’re awake, that’s promising. The fever should be breaking soon, but you also have a UTI, and a really bad flu which is why you’re on antibiotics, and we’ll be sending some home with you. You should stay the night, but you are allowed to leave as soon as the fever breaks,” he says with a smile neither of them return. “I’ll get a nurse to come and explain the medication we’ll be sending home with . . . Sam. Dean, is it? You won’t be allowed in the room with him when we do the next examination.”

“What? Why not?”

“Technically you’re not family. I have it noted here that you’re a boyfriend, so you’ll be asked to wait outside.”

Dean kisses Sam once before making his way outside the room.

He hates not knowing, and he hates worrying about the person he loves the most. His fingers twist and tangle, and he sits on the edge of his chair the whole time. When he hears retching from Sam’s room he stands and paces. When another nurse goes to Sam’s room he paces faster.

“Sir? You can come in now.”

Dean runs into the room to get to Sammy, who’s pissed himself again. A young female nurse is cleaning him up, and Dean tries to help, but then he remembers where they are and he backs off.

“Oh, Sammy,” Dean breathes.

“M’okay, De,” Sam croaks, and the nurse just shakes her head while she takes blood. “Just have a UTI, I’ll just hav’ta stay in diapers like usual, maybe a catheter again.”

The nurse scurries out of the room after he says that, and Dean takes her place by Sam’s side.

“Sammy, how’re you feelin’?”

“Better, my fever’s dropped,” he slurs. “But I have to piss,” he sighs, and Dean presses the nurse button on the remote attached to the bed.

“Again? Hold it, pet, I called someone to come help you go, okay?”

“I hav’ta go now, De, I have to pee, Master.”

“Hey,” Dean pets down his sweaty face, “you can hold it just a little while longer, okay? They’ve had to change the sheets twice, Sammy, you don’t want to give them extra work.”

“Said they’d have to catheterize me if I couldn’t hold it ‘cause of the infection,” Sam says, and he leans into Dean’s touch. “Can’t hold it, you should go get a catheter.”

As Sam says it the spot under Dean’s hand that was resting on his belly becomes warm and damp, and Dean sighs.

“Sammy, hold it.”

“Can’t, hav’ta go.”

The nurse comes in then, and Sam leaks only minimally before he’s helped into the bathroom and in front of a toilet. Dean hears his moan and the trickle of piss hitting the basin of the toilet, and he tries to keep his cock from chubbing up by thinking of the grossest things possible. Like where what’s in the toilet goes.

He shudders. He went a little too far with that one, but it successfully killed his awkward boner.

Sam comes back in the room looking more relaxed, but still with the bags under his eyes, and wrinkles etched deep into his face.

“He’ll be discharged this evening, Mr . . . ?”

“Dean, just . . . Dean.”

“Well, Dean, you are living with Mr. Winchester, correct?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“He’ll need some extra care. This flu that’s going around is hard to get rid of, and so he’ll need at least a week off of work if he’s working, and bedrest until he’s able to get himself out of bed. The doctor is sending home antibiotics like we said, which will last two weeks, two pills twice a day.”

“Thanks.”

“Sure.”

The next morning Sam’s discharged. Over-night he’s improved so much, but he doesn’t remember a thing, and Dean’s not about to tell him about the number of accidents he had.

At home Dean helps Sam up to their room and to his bed, and he tucks Sam in after checking his temperature. He’s still warm, and he still can’t stomach more than a few spoonfuls of soup, but his eyes have cleared of that mist Dean was afraid of, and he’s coherent enough to talk, so he figures it’s a good thing he called the ambulance.

Dean crawls in to bed next to Sam and holds him close. Sam curls up against his chest with a content little sigh.

“Sammy, I was so worried, don’t ever scare me like that again.”

“M’sorry, De. I didn’t mean to piss downstairs.”

“S’okay, pet, I forgive you, you didn’t mean to. I’ll leave the bathroom unlocked, alright? I just . . . Sam, I can’t go through that again.”

“Through what?”

“I wasn’t allowed in the room with you because we’re not married. Sam, what if I have a heart attack? Or what if something happens to you? I won’t be able to know, I won’t be allowed in the room with you.”

“Dean, what’re you saying?” Sam asks, and he looks apprehensive, but a little smile he’s trying to hide makes his lips curl anyways.

“Sammy . . . Sam, I want to get married.”

“I’m not hallucinating or anything . . . Am I?” He asks, and holds Dean a little closer, grin slowly spreading.

“Nope, I said it.”

“Are you bein’ serious? You really want to get married?”

“Yeah, we can throw a big party, invite the whole family and everyone from the office, anyone you want to invite. We can pick out decorations, and flowers, make it a big deal, or small, however you want it.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you. Love you, love you, love you,” Sam says between slobbery kisses he plants all over Dean’s face that he cups in his big hands.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I get it.”

“Seriously,” Sam says, and smiles so wide it’s got to be hurting his cheeks, “Dean I’m so excited. Oh my god, we’re getting married.”

“We’re getting married,” Dean repeats, happy this time as the realization starts to sink in.

“You know, there’s one way we could celebrate,” Sam offers, but Dean shakes his head.

“Sam, you’re too sick, you need to sleep.”

He huffs and makes an unhappy sound, but he settles down into the mattress.

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

The silence drifts on for a few minutes.

“Hey, De?”

“Yes, pet?”

“I love you so much.”

“I love you, too, Sammy,” Dean says, and kisses the top of his head. “More than you’ll ever know.”

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr](http://www.invictus-impala.tumblr.com)   
>  [My Other Ao3](http://archiveofourown.org/users/invictusimpala)


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